Some things aren't true until you say them...

10.03.2009 - 12:22 a.m.

There is a wounded baby rabbit in the tub of my guest bathroom. We found him when we pulled into the driveway after seeing Zombieland; one of the neighbor cats had caught it, and our car startled the cat away.

I mostly wish we hadn't seen. Zombieland was an awesome movie, my sides hurt from laughing, and I had been overdue for a good laugh. And I am okay knowing that cats kill little critters. Circle of life and all that. We went over to look at the poor thing, still huddled on the cement where the cat had left it, and all of the skin along its side was hanging loose in a big flap, raw red muscle underneath. I was pretty sure it was already dead, for all that it was still breathing. Rabbits don't handle trauma well, and shock is just as deadly as blood loss.

We left it there, thinking the cat would finish it faster. There aren't any 24-hour vets here that I know of.

But then we got into the house, and our own cats said hi, and chased the toy I kicked with liquid grace, and my husband could see that I couldn't do it. He went back out, and found the bunny in the same position, the cat lurking nearby, and he brought it in. I gave it a chinese container lid to drink from, and an old towel to sleep on, if it can. I expect it will be dead in the morning, when he'll try to take it to a vet if by some miracle it isn't.

I hate situations with no good answer.


Edited to add: Well, it died. So instead of brutish and short it was comfortable and terrified... and instead of feeding a cat it got a midnight burial in the garden.

The moon above was beautiful and bright.

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